


Undying Fidelity

by BlueCookiesForRick



Series: In Memoriam Requiem [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone is just trying to cope, Gen, Ghosts, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Loss, Mourning, Not A Fix-It, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Thor (Marvel) Feels, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-14 08:03:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16488776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueCookiesForRick/pseuds/BlueCookiesForRick
Summary: Loki is not quite gone- his spirit still lingers next to Thor. Apparently not even death can rid him of his brother.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to whisperoftheheart925 for beta-reading! I love you <3  
> Disclaimer: all characters belong to Marvel Studios, not me.

_Lo, There do I see my Father_

_Lo, There do I see my Mother and_

_My Brothers and my Sisters_

_Lo, There do I see the line of my people back to the beginning_

_Lo, They do call to me_

_They bid me take my place among them in the halls of Valhalla_

_Where thine enemies have been vanquished_

_Where the brave shall live Forever_

_Nor shall we mourn but rejoice for those that have died the glorious death._

Ancient Norse prayer

 

* * *

 

 

The Norns must really hate him.

That was the first thought that his mind formed after he woke.

The second one was that Thor would _kill_ him for coming back to life again. Well, he could rest assured that this time was entirely unintentional.

His eyelids bristled and slowly opened. Immediately, aggressive sunlight pierced his eyes, and Loki pressed them back shut with a sharp breath. All right, sight was a no for the moment.

He focused on his other senses. At first, silence seemed to surround him, a comfortable absence of distractions and trouble. As his hearing acclimated, he realised the sounds around him were muffled, as if underwater. Distant murmurs and whispers found their way to his ears, and he found himself inexplicably drawn to them. He could perceive the steady beatings of his heart against his ribcage, and he wondered how it could manage to be so peaceful when it had just died.

He tried opening his eyes again. This time, the sunlight welcomed him, tenderly brushing his eyelashes.

It seemed he was lying on a bed, his head resting on a comfortable pillow. Warmth seeped into his body, a warmth which reminded him of summers back on Asgard, where he and his brother would run to the gardens and climb the tall, steady oak trees. The room was bathed in a peaceful morning glow, with stray rays of light gently lapping at the corners.

He turned his head. Lying next to him was Thor, propped up on his right shoulder with his left arm discarded across his chest. He was clad in a full-body armour that Loki thought had been destroyed on Sakaar. His face was blocked from Loki’s view, but he could see beads of sweat hanging from the back of his brother’s neck. His hair seemed ruffled, unkempt, and highly uncharacteristic of Thor’s usual practices. Loki could remember endless mornings spent fruitlessly knocking on his bedroom door, only to be met with “I’m not ready yet!” and “I need to make my hair look just right for the ceremony!”.

( _On the cramped Sakaarian vessel, he had often spotted Thor absently rubbing the back of his head, a disappointed and wistful expression on his face- the loss of his hair was easier to mourn that that of his friends, his father, his home-)_

But Loki did not focus on that. Because his brother’s body was shaken with uncontrolled spasms, and his tense shoulders rose and fell with each ragged breath. Occasionally, a small whimper escaped his mouth, his closed eyelids unconsciously twitching. It was obvious Thor was experiencing a violent nightmare, like the ones he used to have as a child and tried in vain to hide from his younger brother.

_“Thor?”_

The instant the words fell out of his mouth, Loki knew something was wrong. The sound of his voice echoed around, but it lacked depth. It rang with a shallow, almost unreal tone, almost as if it did not belong in this plane of reality.

Wait.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no.

Loki sprang into a sitting position. “ _Thor. Brother, wake up. Can you hear me?”_

Nothing. The trembling and whimpering redoubled. Loki tentatively reached a hand toward his brother’s arched back, hoping against all odds that the situation wasn’t what he suspected. His fingers hovered next to Thor’s shoulder, before closing the gap to touch him-

His hand went right through.

He tried to control his breathing. His hands went to the sheets and tried to crumple them, to move them, anything to prove he was here.

_(I’m here, Thor, I’m here. Brother, please. I’m here._ The words echoed in his head in painful recollection. _)_

He felt the sheets under his fingers, and yet they refused to move. He could tell every bump in the fabrics, but each time he tried to ruffle them, it was as if he was plunged in honey. Everything felt _wrong._

He stood up and reached for a small lamp on the nearby table. Again, his hand went past it when he tried to grab it. And yet he could still feel the heat of the morning sun, could still feel his heart banging in his chest. He was a living ghost.

There, but not there.

It seemed he was dead after all.

But if he was, why was he stuck here?

His confusion was cut short by Thor’s sudden intake of breath as his body gave one final spasm. Turning around, Loki saw his brother’s eyes ( _how had he acquired a second?)_ snap open right in front of Loki’s form.

“ _Thor?”_ He tentatively waved his hand. The eyes did not move, and Loki’s heart sank. His brother could not see or hear him. He was truly alone.

Thor’s initial panic had subsided, and, breathing heavily, he rolled onto his back. As if by instinct, his hand crept up to the empty pillow next to him. When they found nothing, Thor quickly sat up, and his breathing stopped. Then, his eyes glazed over and his face contorted into a grimace of pain. He sank back into the bed, defeated.

Loki had the impression he was watching something incredibly private. He had never seen Thor appear so vulnerable since Svartalfheim, or even when he had given himself up to the Destroyer back when he was banished, a lifetime ago.

They stayed here for a while, Thor sighing on his large bed, and Loki sitting next to him, wishing he could rub off the lump that had formed in the space between his brother’s eyebrows.

What had happened, that Loki was stuck here, with no means of communicating? Why was he not in the afterlife? After all that he had done, he clearly did not deserve Valhalla, but surely there was a place in Helheim for him? Had he been called back? If so, by whom? Thor clearly was not aware of his presence. So why did he wake up next to him?

Loki was not used to be lacking answers. He had always loved to be in control, to know more than the others and to be one step ahead. He thrived in situations where he was the one to divulge information, specifically plucking out the truth so it could bend to his ends.

Now, helplessly staring at Thor’s broken form, he felt plunged in a swirling ocean, with no way of controlling his descent.

Eventually, Thor got up. He didn’t bother changing out of his armour, though. Instead, he walked up to the bathroom, scowled at the mirror, and splashed some water over his face. It trickled down filled with ash and dust.

When Thor stepped out of his quarters, Loki felt a strong pull towards the exit. Apparently he was condemned to spend his afterlife following his brother. Great. Not very different from his previous life then, he thought bitterly.

 

 

The building was eerily quiet. Thor’s footsteps echoed as he wandered aimlessly through the halls. Briefly, Loki wondered if they were the only ones there when a tall figure walked past, long hair hanging from a bearded, weary face and clouded blue eyes which he thought vaguely resembled the Captain’s. Thor looked up, and the figure nodded before wordlessly disappearing, as if it was never there.

Eventually, they reached a common room with comfortable couches, a bar and several bay windows. While his brother reached to the bar to pour himself a drink the younger god was pretty sure would not affect him in any way, Loki peered out the nearest window. Outside, the sun shone on what first appeared to be a bustling city. Tall, overhanging buildings in the distance cast their shadows on a clean, perfectly organised street below while the houses complimented each other in light tones of red and brown.

And yet something was off. The street was utterly empty, and a thin coat of dust was draped over the city. The energy around this place was…odd, Loki thought. Like it was lacking an essential part, and therefore was not whole. His seiðr longed to fill in the gaps in this incomplete setting, but he held it in. Even if he had been physically able to intervene, the sheer magnitude of whatever had happened here was far too large for him to fix.

He reverted his attention back to Thor. The god of thunder, clad in new armour, looked incredibly small in the empty room. His eyes were sunken and dark, but not in the fury Loki had so often seen his brother harbour. He was just…drained, like the third empty glass that was now discarded on the bar table.

And Loki felt the inkling of doubt, which had been sowed ever since he woke up to Thor’s nightmare, grow into a strong ringing in his mind. Against his will, he remembered his last moments on the _Statesman_. The dark energy swirling around the dead remnants of Asgard. Thanos’ cruel, ironic smirk as he watched them fall apart. Thor’s desperate, desperate blue eye searching Loki’s, searching for any sign that he had a plan, that everything would be fine, that-

He was pulled from his memory by the _clink_ of yet another glass on the counter.

Loki watched as the mighty Thor refilled it once again, and wondered if Thanos had been the one to finally bring his brother to his knees.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a beautiful day outside. Too bad they were stuck in Thor’s room because of the oaf’s terribly irritating inclination to spend his time moping around the building like some damned soul in Helheim. And Loki was growing severely bored of talking to the void.

“ _Are you going to spend the rest of your life cooped up in here?”_ The attempt was futile, he knew. For the past two days, he had tried every possible method known to gods and men to reach Thor, with a spectacular success rate of zero. But talking had always been his go-to response in the face of a challenge, so why stop now?

“ _Seriously, brother, are you going to tell me I gave my life for you to waste yours feeling miserable?”_

He was standing in the corner, his arms loosely crossed against his chest.  Thor sat on the couch in the living room, absentmindedly holding a glass of…beer? Whiskey? Frankly, Loki had stopped looking too closely at his brother’s favoured drinking habits. His gaze was far away, and his slouched form differed so much from his usual alert posture.

_“You’re making me regret choosing the heroic way out, you know.”_ Loki sighed and flopped on the couch next to his older brother.

Thor shuddered. The younger god couldn’t tell if he had somehow felt him, or if he was just so exhausted his body was shutting down. He preferred the former.

 

* * *

 

 

“Uh, Thor?”

The sound of a voice other than his own filled Loki with relief. A week had passed with only silence enveloping the two brothers, along with the occasional otherworldly whispers that Loki could hear when he closed his eyes.

He turned his head towards the blessed man that had cut through Thor’s brooding. He seemed mortal, with dark skin and chestnut eyes. His hair was buzzed short, and wrinkles creased his brow, as though he had spent too much time in the sun. Or worrying. Or both.

“Princess Shuri and the others are out helping with the repairs. The outskirts of the city took some damage and the people were evacuated. I thought maybe you’d want to join us?”

The man’s inquisitive and slightly cautious tone made Loki scoff. _“Good luck, old man,”_ he said grumpily. _“This oaf won’t leave his moping if the whole treasures of Nidavellir are offered to him on a silver platter.”_

Thor straightened in his seat. He got up and smiled tightly at the newcomer. “Of course,” he said, “I’ll join you shortly.”

Well, Loki supposed he should have predicted this. He recognised his brother’s favourite way of coping with grief that was pretending it didn’t exist until it was shoved in his face. Paired, of course, with his idiotic, overgrown sense of responsibility and desire to appear fine when he was everything but.

The other man smiled back, a friendliness engraved in his features that never seemed to leave him. “Awesome. I’ll see you outside then. I’ll go see if I can convince Rogers to leave his room for more than two minutes.”

“Thank you for fetching me… Colonel Rhodes, isn’t it?”

The man nodded. “Call me James.” With that he left, gently closing the door behind him.

_“Well, if it finally makes us leave this cursed place for a while, it can’t be that bad,”_ Loki told Thor as the older god sighed and put on a pair of shoes. Together they set out in the late afternoon sun.

 

 

 

He couldn’t believe these were the same Avengers that had defeated him all these years ago. They were…hollow. Without purpose, without drive. Even Loki, who was literally _dead_ , seemed less like a ghost than these shells did.

The radiant sun fell heavily on their necks as they worked to clear the rubble. Dust coated their bodies, but none of them seemed to notice it, let alone mind it. And while Thor and his comrades mechanically moved rocks and avoided each other’s gaze, Loki started to apprehend the fact that Thanos had actually won.

It hadn’t been far from his mind, really. The dread that had been beaten into his essence from his very first encounter with the titan had never stopped shaking his dreams and creeping into his thoughts. When the gigantic vessel had flashed before the Asgardian refugee ship, Loki had instantly known there was no way he was going to survive this. His one and only thought, the one which had hammered in his brain for the entirety of what followed, had been to _save Thor, get him out of here, please don’t let him die_. He was never supposed to live past that point.

And yet, as much as he had convinced himself that Thanos would kill him, he had never really believed he would _win_. Granted, he knew the Titan was powerful, powerful enough to destroy Asgard, to vanquish the Avengers, to kill _Thor_. But the idea that he had _succeeded -_ that Thor, greatest warrior in the Nine Realms, had been _defeated-_ it didn’t compute with him. Thor was the one constant line in his life. He was the warrior, the one who bowed to no one and who always won, no matter what. Whatever happened, his brother would always be there, right next to him.

And, he thought with a wan smile, in some ironic way, he was. But he was starting to believe his brother had left a part of himself on the Sakaarian ship.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun was setting when Thor broke his monotonous work for a breath of fresh air. A tiny breeze crept out on the lake in front of them, timidly ruffling their hair as if afraid of profaning the atmosphere. The birds did not chirp. Thor’s breaths were the only sounds disturbing the peace.

The air smelled like burned soil, when the earth becomes so dry it folds back on itself in silent desperation. In the distance, the surface of the lake was blurred with heat as it reflected the multicoloured rays of the setting sun.

“…I can’t do it.”

Loki was so entranced by the glorious scenery that he jumped at Thor’s voice. Glancing to him, he started at the blank expression covering his brother’s face. The tight smiles from earlier were gone, and Loki only wanted to clasp his face between his hands to get some semblance of happiness back into his features.

“I can’t do it, Loki,” he spoke again. He sank down on the ground with a thud.

Loki sighed, settling down beside him. “ _You’re going to have to be more specific, Thor._ ”

Thor’s head was bowed down, his hands absently rubbing through the coarse dust. He didn’t seem aware of the other god’s presence, and yet here he was, addressing him as though…

“I’ve tried, so hard. Even in my head, but- I can’t say it. I just can’t.” He raised his head, unseeing eyes sweeping through the lake. Loki bowed his head, resisting the useless urge to hum his acknowledgment.

“You know, I keep on seeing you,” Thor continued with a humourless laugh. “I turn around, and I can almost see you beside me, criticising my horrible decisions.”

It was Loki’s turn to huff out a breathless chuckle. “ _Brother, the irony would make the Norns snicker in their caves_.”

“I- I’ve tried to avenge you. I put all my soul into it. And I failed. And no matter what I do, what I try, I just can’t let you go, brother. I. Can’t. Say. The. Damned. Words.”

His voice had become ragged, as if he was swallowing a particularly painful mouthful. His breaths came out in short, choking gasps, and Loki could see the tears brimming in his mismatched eyes. Anger and self-hatred clouded his brow.

Loki processed the words. He was suddenly reminded of their snippet of a moment back in the Sakaarian prison, when the illusion he had sent out had found Thor softly murmuring the Aesir funeral words for his father. It had been small in the inferno of destruction that followed, but it had seemed to lift a weight from his brother’s shoulders. And that relief was why Loki had joined him in the end of the prayer. The traditional words represented a way to move on, past the insurmountable grief that threatened to swallow you whole. To find peace.

Loki inhaled sharply. Maybe _that_ was the reason he was stuck here, in this incorporeal form. Maybe Thor had yet to pronounce the words. To simply let him go.

He had never been a particularly religious person. His idea of the afterlife, if he ever thought about it, limited itself to a vague idea of Valhalla and Helheim. But if he really had been called back, what other motive could possibly have been stronger than his brother’s need for his presence? There was a chance his soul was actually _held back_ by the intensity of Thor’s longing for it.

If so, he thought as his heart sank, he really was dead. Or worse. A mere shadow, the remnant of a memory in Thor’s mind.

He wondered with a sort of wry curiosity if that was the case for Heimdall too. For Valkyrie, whom he had not heard of ever since the first shot had hit the _Statesman_. For the countless Asgardians slaughtered by Thanos in the sombre outskirts of space. He wondered if thousands of other ghosts were following Thor this instant, coming to the same conclusions as he had, trapped here because the last remnant of their kind was far too consumed by guilt and grief to let them go. As he looked back at his brother’s hunched shoulders, at his vacant, glistening eyes and his trembling form, the possibility seemed more and more plausible.

“I miss you, Loki.” With that, Thor let out a heart-wrenching sob that sounded so _foreign_ , so _not-Thor_ to Loki’s ears that he instinctively rushed right next to his brother’s body. He was painfully aware of his arms blurring through the older god’s chest, of the tears that smeared his own face and yet refused to wet the parched ground underneath.

_“I know, brother, I know. But I’m here. Please, it’s alright.”_ He murmured continuous words of useless comfort as Thor heaved yet another painful breath.

“Please,” his brother finally whispered, in a voice so small and vulnerable Loki could hardly make it out. “Please come back, Loki.”

And Loki sat there, right next to him, as the last king of Asgard broke into tears, wishing with all his might he could do anything to grant that helpless plea.


	2. Chapter 2

Loki would have liked to think the situation would change overtime. After all, when Thor had mourned him in the past (- _he flinched as the memory of Thor’s fierce grip on the back of his neck, imploring him to come back to Asgard and forget about this foolish invasion. Of his own broken voice as he sneered “Did you mourn?”-),_ he had always come right back up. Why would this time be any different?

But Loki knew better. He knew the lacerations that loss could carve deep in one’s soul. He knew that whatever you did, whatever you were told, your bones would always shudder under the weight of guilt and mourning.

He also knew that some wounds were just too deep to heal.

So he watched helplessly as his brother lived one breath after another. As the Captain wandered the halls in search of an inaccessible goal. As Banner’s eyes, once glimmering with knowledge and curiosity, reflected a guarded abyss no one could cross. As James Rhodes’ head regularly tipped to the sky for a silent plea, in hope of finding _something_ in the infinity of space.

 

The last thing Loki expected to get to Thor was a talking rat. After everything, he still would have guessed the god of thunder’s innate social nature would eventually get the better of him, and he would have gone to seek his fellow Avengers’ comfort. Despite everything, Thor remained Thor.

In the three weeks Loki had been stuck here, he had never seen the creature that now approached them with soft _thumps_ on the yellow grass. Its furry snout protruded from a rodent-like head, and yet it was standing on two feet with experienced agility. It looked in every way like one of the small animals that sometimes crawled in Midgardian woods and cities, except for its two wide, glistening, incredibly _human_ eyes.

It - _they? -_ settled down next to Thor. The god had taken a liking to the silent lake, often going out when his quarters became too much to bear. Loki did not complain about the occasional bursts of fresh air. He was starting to hate that cursed couch anyway.

Thor looked over at his newest companion and acknowledged him with a slight nod and a smile. The creature grunted, and Loki wondered if someone could start speaking English like a functioning living being.

“Any luck with your search?” Thor finally asked.

The rat refused to even glance at Thor, keeping its gaze tightly locked on the other side of the lake. Its ears drooped to the back of its head.

“…Yeah.” Its voice was low, rough and weary. “You could say that.”

Thor did not inquire further. It seemed caution was now a part of his vocabulary, which Loki welcomed whole-heartedly. And yet he still sometimes missed the foolhardy, speak-before-you-think god of thunder he grew up with.

They sat there in - _what an astounding surprise! –_ silence. Clouds rolled up ahead, agglomerating over the mountains in what the land could only hope would become a long-awaited storm. Loki laid his back on the ground, hands linked behind his head. He inhaled the ozone-filled air. He could almost taste the clouds, their wet, velvety wisps lapping at the earth.

Loki had taken the habit of lying down and breathing for a while. With nothing better to do, he had simply decided to slow down, something he had never allowed himself to do in his previous life. One aspect for which he was grateful to his condition was the utter airiness he felt. It was like living without the _weight_ of living. Like a new-born child, experiencing the world without prior knowledge or experience. Here, he didn’t have to answer to anyone. He could act the way he wanted, without constantly needing to watch his back. He had to admit this kind of freedom was a welcome change.

Of course, it did not erase the loneliness that crept onto the edges of his consciousness from time to time.

“This planet is so goddamn silent.”

Loki did not jump. He was merely a little surprised when the creature reminded him of its presence by picking up a rock which _happened_ to be lying right under his chest. The feeling of an arm phasing through your body was still something to get accustomed to.

The rat turned the stone around a few times, before hurling it towards the lake. It sank with a _splash_ which echoed in the wind.

Thor hummed. “It didn’t use to be.”

The creature snorted. “I figured. If all Terrans are half as annoying as Quill, I-” Its eyes widened, and it trailed off with a stricken look. A shaky exhale came out of its mouth.

“Rabbit? Is everything alright?”

Loki fought the urge to swat his brother on the back of his neck. Whatever it was, the animal clearly looked nothing like a rabbit.

The rodent did not answer right away. Instead it took a deep breath, and Loki could see the rise and fall of its small chest.

“I’m fine,” it said gruffly. Loki didn’t need to be the god of lies to know that was completely untrue. No one in this universe seemed to be fine anymore.

Visibly Thor had come to the same conclusion. He leaned ever so slightly closer to his companion and stopped at the imperceptible flinch the latter made. Another habit his brother had learnt after taking care of Loki for so long.

“They… didn’t make it, did they? Your team.”

The rodent inhaled sharply through its nose and bared its teeth. “I told you I was fine!”

The subtle break in its voice did not go unnoticed. After a while, Thor opened his mouth.

“I’m-”

“Don’t you _dare_. Don’t you _fucking_ dare say you’re sorry.”

Thor closed his mouth again.

“I’m gonna find that purple motherfucker myself,” it muttered. “I’m gonna wring his neck so hard, the bastard will regret ever being born. I’m gonna watch as life slowly drains out from his disgusting eyes, and I’ll- I’ll…”

“Trust me,” said Thor, his eyebrows knitted together. “It does little to make the pain go away.”

The animal- Loki would just call it Rat for now, because this was starting to become slightly ridiculous- paused and glanced over at the god.

“After my brother- after Thanos destroyed my ship, I wanted nothing more than to pulverize him.” Thor clenched his fist. “I wanted to squeeze the breath out of his throat, and watch him suffer. That was what kept me going. I knew without a doubt I would avenge my bro- my _people_ , or die trying.”

Rat let out a mirthless, quiet breath. “You got the dying part right. That stunt you pulled relighting Nidavellir, that was some scary shit, dude. You could’ve been fried.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. _“What have you been up to, brother?”_

“But I didn’t, did I?” The corners of Thor’s eyes crinkled and his lips tilted upwards for a fraction of a second. Loki rolled his eyes.

“The point is,” he continued, “I did get to see the bastard Titan suffer. I plunged my axe right through his chest. I didn’t kill him right away, because I wanted to see his face slowly drain of life.” He twisted his clenched fist and scowled. “And I made sure it would _hurt_.”

Thor seemed to have realised his entire body had tensed up, because he forced himself to breathe out three or four times. His eyes held a swirl of dark anger, but it was muted- as though a veil had been cast unto it.

Loki was listening intently to the conversation. He had often wondered how Thor had made his way back to Earth. How he had reacted after Loki’s death. Most of all, he wanted to know how Thor had become this shell, so different from the brother he once knew. Or thought he knew.

“I… I thought it would be enough to at least quell my thirst. I thought it would make me happy again.” At this point, Thor looked back down, towards the droplets that had begun to land, gently seeping into the cracks of the earth. Loki was reminded of a great animal gulping for a few dribbles of the precious liquid.

“But it didn’t do anything. I’m still here, and my people are still gone. Whatever happens, I’m still alone... and it seems I always will be.”

Seconds ticked by, and even Loki was out of words.

Rat suddenly croaked out a tiny, barely perceptible whimper.

“They… They’re gone. All of them. Nebula managed to… To make a call, and…she’s all that’s left.” It faltered. There was a hint of moisture in its eyes, but Loki couldn’t be quite sure.

Thor nodded gravely.

“I…” the creature hiccupped, a sound so broken, and yet so decidedly human, that Loki decided he would strive to find out the name of the being. “I never got to say goodbye. Hell, my last words to Quill were an insult. And Groot-”

“I know.” With infinite precaution, Thor placed one hand on the back of the creature’s head. Its ears flicked, but it did not bare its teeth or flinch away from the touch. “I know. My last words… weren’t exactly the kindest either.”

A deep pool of regret formed in both pairs of eyes. Loki wanted to berate his brother for ever imagining that he would take offense for such a thing. He wanted to tell him he completely understood how hard it was to say goodbye, how heart-wrenching it was to acknowledge that the thing you loved was gone forever. He wanted to wrap his arms against his brother and never let go.

And perhaps part of him wanted to place a comforting hand on the creature’s shoulder, too.

A burst of thunder resounded through the clearing. It made its way from the distant mountains, following the winding trail of the valley and finishing its race like a gunshot to a wound. The rain had grown in intensity, creating innumerable ripples on the surface of the lake. The wind lifted the water in tiny waves which gently brushed the tip of Loki’s feet.

“Guess that’s what we are, huh,” the creature said. “Just two losers who suck at saying goodbye.”

_“That we are, my furry friend,”_ sighed Loki as he looked back up towards the grey sky. _“That we are.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Loki hardly saw the creature- Rocket, he learned- the weeks that followed.

He knew his location, of course. From Thor’s quarters, he could often hear the _clangs_ and _pings_ coming from the labs. Once, Thor had come to check on Rocket’s wellbeing, only to be politely chased away from the room with a grunt and a wave of something which looked vaguely explosive.

Thor had changed from heavy alcohol to one or two glasses of beer, which Loki assumed was slightly better for his body. He was also going outside more often.

Sometimes, on good days when the sun was shining and the wind was ruffling the newly-grown bushes, Loki would catch his brother’s lips silently forming the beginning of a prayer. He would watch expectantly as they uttered two or three words, before stuttering to a halt. He would sigh as Thor’s shoulders finally slumped in defeat, murmuring a soft apology to the ghost of his brother.

Other times, he would feel a subtler sense of weightlessness, an airiness and lightness which seemed to call to him more urgently than usual. He would look at the tips of his fingers, only to find them pale and translucent, almost disappearing in the thin sunlight. But as quick as a flash, the feeling would vanish when Thor set his eyes upon a certain shade of green, or a pair of croaking ravens swooping on the breeze in an elaborate ballet.

 

Today, Loki thought as Thor studied the training room vacantly, was not a good day.

He had just watched his brother thrash around for the entire night, eyelids fluttering close then jerking back up again in panic. If he weren’t dead already, Loki’s eyes would have been dark and clouded with insomnia. As it turned out, his newly acquired condition did not require any form of rest. Therefore, he looked far better off than his very much alive brother.

Thor’s whole posture screamed of exhaustion. His dilated pupils darted around, unable to focus on anything. His dishevelled hair stuck out in every possible direction, and the sheets had dug a long wrinkle into his cheek. His beard was unkempt and shaggy.

A rhythmic hammering resonated in Loki’s ears, echoing back and forth between the pristine white walls. The god’s eyes travelled through the area, taking in the various devices which humans sometimes used to develop their muscle mass. Everything looked shiny and brand new, yet Loki had the feeling the machines were often used (perhaps even more than the _beds_ in this place).

He finally spotted the source of the noise. A tall, muscular figure was relentlessly pounding on a brown punching bag which seemed to have done its office one too many times. The man’s blank expression and clouded eyes were so reminiscent of Thor’s that Loki had trouble to recognise him.

The Captain was definitely not the same man that had proudly stood up to him that distant night on Midgard. But then, Loki was not one to talk. People changed; that was a part of life nobody could prevent. Sometimes they bended, sometimes they stood firm. And sometimes, people broke.

The Captain’s movements were almost mechanic as his clenched fists repeatedly hit the bag. His jaws grinded against each other, and long strands of hair had fallen in front of his matted forehead. His eyes held the same emptiness that now accompanied the entire remaining half of the universe.

Thor moved towards him. Hearing the shuffling of feet, the Captain paused his effort and looked over at the new arrival. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

“Hey.”

Thor nodded. _Was every greeting going to be at this level of subtlety from now on?_

“Wanna spar?” asked the Captain. Thor shook his head.

His companion sighed. “Yeah. Me neither.” He walked over to a small water bottle and emptied it in short, measured gulps.

If he was that tired of fighting, Loki wondered, why was he most often found here, relentlessly punching a bag of sand?

He remembered seeing soldiers like this back in Asgard. The vacant look, the mechanical moves. They, too, had seen one too many battles. And yet the only place you could find them would be the sparring field. Endlessly pounding on training mannequins, slashing back and forth with no precise goal. As if it was their safe place, their home. When all you ever knew was war, peace seemed strange and unbearable.

“This is almost like the old times, isn’t it?” said the Captain suddenly. At Thor’s inquisitive look, he continued. His voice was quivering, as if afraid of losing the memory. “We would always hang out in the training room in the beginning. I was way too shy to speak to any of you. Clint would come and spar with me on rough days, and Natasha was always close behind.”

A small, tentative smile, almost unnoticed, made its way across his features. “You would eventually come and see what the ruckus was about. And sometimes we could even get Bruce and Tony to-” He cut himself short. A haunted shadow passed briefly across his face.

Thor put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Stark will be alright, Captain.”

The man inhaled shakily. “We don’t know that. He looked badly injured in that transmission.”

“He’s endured far worse.”

The Captain flinched as if physically struck. After a while he caught himself, nodded and looked back towards Thor.

“It’s good to have you back, Thor. Really.”

The god offered him a small smile. “You know, I-”

They were interrupted by the sound of the door swishing open. A very dishevelled Bruce Banner peeked his head through the opening. His eyes widened slightly when he found the pair standing in the middle of the room.

“There you are.” His soft, shy voice was at least one thing that hadn’t changed since Loki was gone.

“Thor, you might wanna come up there. I think there’s someone you’d like to see.”

 

 

 

Loki had to work hard to remember the girl that now stood casually sipping coffee in the bland kitchen. Her black hair fell in curls around her neck, and she had attached a few green strands that stood out like glowing snakes. Glasses hung loosely from her upturned nose.

When Thor entered, she gave him a tiny smile. A delicate, tender thing which still hid strength and malice, like remnants of a life before.

“Hey there, Big Guy. Long time no see.”

Thor stared in silence, just long enough for Loki to shift around awkwardly. He gulped.

“Darcy? What- who…”

_Darcy?_

_Oh yes_. The strange young girl that Thor had met on his first excursion to Midgard. Loki remembered his brother’s fond, nostalgic look as they had talked on the refugee ship, barely a few hours before Thanos. But if she was here, that meant-

“Darcy…” Thor’s voice had caught, and his fear tremored in those two, incredibly short syllables. “Is Jane…Is she-”

“Jane’s fine, or whatever’s considered fine here. She’s…”

“Thor?”

The voice’s effect on Thor was instantaneous. His face blanched. He went rigid as a tree, and his breath stuck in his throat as if he didn’t know what to do with it anymore.

Loki groaned. _“Perfect. She just had to survive as well, did she.”_

On the threshold of the door, standing with a glass of water in her hand, appeared none other than Jane Foster herself.

She, too, had changed. There was no trace of the careful makeup that used to highlight her dark eyelashes. Her hair was short and straight, ending in strands just above her neck. She stood confidently, with a gait only age could bring. When she set eyes on Thor, she let out a breathy laugh and smiled.

“Hi. You’ve…changed.”

Thor _choked_.

His blue eye filled with tears, he mouthed Foster’s name repeatedly, as if afraid of forgetting. His body shook, once, twice, and just like that, he was desperately clutching the woman’s arms with trembling fingers. The latter visibly tensed under the touch. But then she took in the broken form of her former lover, who had all but collapsed onto her. Her shoulders relaxed, and she placed a comforting hand around his neck.

“It’s- it’s okay, Thor. You’re okay.”

“I- I thought you were _gone_. I’m- Thank the Norns, I thought you were-”

“I’m here, Thor. I’m here.”

Loki flinched, but Thor said nothing. Just sobbed noiselessly against the very last remnant of his life Before.

After a moment, Darcy coughed and shifted, looking exactly the way Loki felt.

“Well, uh- I guess I’ll just…” She gestured vaguely to the door. Grabbing her discarded mug, she disappeared towards the living room, winking and giving a little wave as she left. Loki rolled his eyes.

Jane Foster looked down at the gradually stilling god in her arms. She rubbed soothing circles around his neck.

“We should join her and have a talk,” she said eventually. “I have a feeling it’ll take a while.”

 

 

 

 

“He wouldn’t have wanted this, you know.”

Thor looked over at Foster. The sunlight bounced on her hair and bathed the room in a soft evening glow.

“Your brother.” She set her empty glass on her table. The little _clink_ lodged itself pleasantly into the air. “He wouldn’t have wanted you to beat yourself up over this.”

“Well, he’s not exactly here to tell me, is he?” Bitterness climbed into his voice, dully sinking into Loki’s ears like the blunt edge of an axe.

Thor sighed a long, exhausted breath which hung incomplete in the space between them. “I’m sorry. I just- I tried. I tried so hard.”

His head was hung low, but Loki knew he expected rebuttal. After all, any conversation with a former lover had to include some level of fragility, especially with that kind of topic.

But he had to admit there was something in Jane Foster’s voice, in the way she trained her eyes on you like you constituted a particularly complex design, that made her easy to talk to. Perhaps that was what she had wanted as a scientist; to make sense of a chaotic universe, made of broken cogs and dysfunctional variables. The desire to _understand_ that seeped into her tilted head, her slightly wrinkled eyebrows and her pursed lips. After all, the best way to figure out a whole was always to coax it open, to reveal the deeply hidden and evasive heart underneath. Loki supposed this also constituted the attributes of a good friend.

“I know,” she said, and her voice was smooth and mild, like an autumn breeze. It reminded Loki of Frigga, of the twinkle of her hazel eyes as he and Thor played in the falling leaves.

“The worst is that I already know _how_ to do it. Norns,” he added with a weak voice, “I already did it twice.”

“But you had others back then. You weren’t alone in this.”

Thor looked away.

Jane shifted and placed a subtle hand on his shoulder. There was a clear affection in her eyes, not romantic, but perhaps something more, something intimate and trusting and earnest.

“What I’m saying is, maybe we can try something different this time. Say goodbye without words. Maybe he would like that.”

Thor looked back at her. His eyes crinkled just a bit, and a tentative smile fleeted across his lips.

The sun had set behind the distant mountains. Shadows lengthened against the walls, blurring Loki’s vision into a game of false colours and misleading dimensions. _Follow us_ , they whispered. _Come and sleep with us._

“I…should probably go back to the labs,” said Jane. “The others will start wondering where I am.”

“Of course.” Ever the kind soul, Thor scrambled to his feet and opened the door for her. She playfully swatted his arm and passed the threshold into the cool night.

“Jane?”

She turned around, listening patiently.

“I’m sorry about Erik. I- he-”

“I know.” Her expression turned wistful and pained.

“I’m glad you’re here, Thor.” Glancing back up to the god, she softened, and her voice regained its soothing tones of autumn and stars. “I really am.”

When Thor’s smile did not drop the second the door closed behind him, Loki decided perhaps Dr Jane Foster was not so very bad after all.

He was quick to bury the slight twinge in his stomach as he looked down to his pale hands, only to see the tips of his transparent fingers fading into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, this isn't a romance fic. Thor and Jane's relationship is platonic- after everything that's happened no one is in this mindset. Plus I suck at writing romance sooo...  
> Hope you liked this chapter! Please, please, please leave a review on your way out! See you soon ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me. Enjoy!

By the time Rocket hesitantly entered the common room, carrying a rather suspicious-looking pile of explosives, Loki could barely see his arms.

It hadn’t been a sudden change. Rather, it had crept in, along with the warm chocolate mugs shared in the darkness with Jane Foster, the sardonic smiles etched by the lake with Rocket, the sweat-filled silence marked in the air with Steve Rogers. It had come in tingling feelings across his spine and prickles in the back of his neck. And with it a foreboding sensation, a bittersweet taste in his mouth that crept about in the quiet times of night, when he stared absently at the ceiling and Thor slept peacefully for the first time in months.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bury the sting it caused deep in his heart _. Typical_ that after everything, the one thing that still tied him to life was his brother’s faith in him. And for that to slowly dwindle away, to eat at him while he watched his own body inexorably fade away…

Somehow, he always found himself closing his eyes, and wondering if they would ever open again. If one moment of inattention would make him disappear, blown away by the evening breeze.

It was terribly, horribly selfish of him, he knew. He would never, ever, wish for his own half-survival over his brother’s recovery. After all, he had already made that choice when he swooped in aboard the Statesman over the troops of Hel in a flurry of light and colours. Loki was done with avoiding death.

If only his trembling, disappearing hands could agree with him.

 

 

Today had been a good day. Thor had listened to Darcy complaining about the lack of decent pizza in Wakanda, and had grinned- a teeth-baring, radiant smile which had propelled Loki back into the palace halls of Asgard. He had coaxed Rogers into leaving the training room and resting, had visited Jane and Banner and half-listened as they talked of stars and universal numbers.

Had looked straight through Loki and smiled fondly at the little mammal that had crept behind the trickster.

“I hope you aren’t going to blow up the palace with that,” he called.

Loki jumped and whirled around at Rocket’s scoff. The rodent, carrying a box full of colourful, definitely explosive devices, nodded hesitantly. His expression was strangely vulnerable, as if he had been caught performing a crime. Which, judging by the contents of the crate, did not seem far from the truth.

“I’m…going out,” he said finally. With that he shuffled to the door and pushed it open. Outside, the moon was shying its way to the earth as the thin scent of petrichor wafted through the doorway.

Rocket paused on the threshold. He cleared his throat and, back still turned, called out to Thor.

“If you wanna tag along, you better move your ass. I’m not waiting for you to put on a petticoat, princess.”

Loki figured that was as good an invitation as any.

 

 

It was that time in the evening when light mingled with darkness in uncertain patterns of black and grey, as if the atmosphere itself was unsure of its original hue. A comfortable coolness drifted along the plains, and Loki spotted a herd of four-legged creatures gently lapping the fresh water at the other side of the lake. The darkness seemed to give it a surreal glow, as if it had sprung from Frigga’s old children fairy tales.

Thor walked up to find Rocket already at work, fiddling with various levers and wires. The sound of his feet gently shuffling around the damp grass mingled with the crickets’ soothing chirps.

Thor’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What’s happening? What are you doing?”

Loki’s lips thinned, and he grit his teeth. He had an inkling of where this was going, and his heart beat heavily in his translucent chest.

Rocket ignored him, checking what looked like a tube connected to a spherical container. A cord of black string was wrapped around it. After going through all his devices, he walked back towards the lake. His ears were drooping, and his tail hung loosely. His chest was steadily rising and falling, but Loki could perceive the faint glistening in his dark brown eyes.

Rocket opened and closed his mouth several times. He ran a paw over his face.

“I, uh,” he started eloquently, before shutting his mouth again. He licked his lips. “This is gonna sound stupid. But, uh- I saw these lying around, and I thought that maybe…”

Thor studied the devices with a puzzled expression. “What are they?”

Rocket coughed. “Fireworks.”

At Thor’s confused blink, he carried on. “When… when a friend died once -some time ago- we sprinkled his ashes into space. His, uh, Ravager clan shot a lot of fireworks around him. And, well… It was kind of a big deal for Quill.” His eyes would not meet Thor’s. “Plus, Groot really liked the colours, so…”

He absently waved towards the installation.

Thor’s brows shot up in understanding.

Loki sighed, a long, resigned breath that lost itself among the clouds. His previous suspicions were practically confirmed now. Whatever happened next was not going to be easy for either of them.

This was a funeral. A personal, vulnerable moment that could break at any given point. And Loki was pretty sure the closed off, snarky Rocket would never, ever, invite Thor to intrude on it.

Except, of course, if he had needed someone who understood. Who knew what it felt like to grieve for people nobody would remember, let alone miss. To have everything taken from you, with nothing to hang onto but crumbling memories and pretty colours in the sky.

And maybe Thor needed this closure just as much.

Hel, maybe Loki did too.

The god of thunder raised his head slowly, and the moonlight reflected in the newly formed tears. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Yeah.”

There was a muffled crack, and Rocket’s face was suddenly bathed in a flickering yellow light. A flaming copper lighter was clutched between his fingers. He looked back up; nodded once. Cleared his throat.

“Well, no use standing around here like idiots.” He walked over to the fireworks, purposeful yet infinitely fragile.

Finally, he took a deep breath and placed the lighter next to the closest fuse. A spark crackled alive and danced along the cord.

The rocket shot up with a whiz, a deafening high-pitched sound that made Loki both flinch and smile. Briefly, he was back in the gardens of Asgard, watching the annual Sumars-dagr festival with his family. Groaning at Thor’s high squealing, and mesmerised by the wonder in Frigga’s shining eyes. He was hooked on Heimdall’s lips as he told stories about the collision of worlds, about Frey and his lost Summer Sword, or Baldr and his shining light.

Loki was violently pulled out of his memory by the unmistakable explosion of light and sound. A pure, radiant star made of giant, gleaming ashes. The destruction of matter brought about by the foolish desire to create something ephemeral and infinitely beautiful.

The flash illuminated the lake as it refracted into a thousand miniature suns. It passed through the thick grove, scaring away flocks of crowing birds.

It ruffled Rocket’s upturned fur. Sent sparks pooling in the depths of his eyes as he stared with a gaze both devoid of life and yet still incredibly full.

It soared past Loki’s body, piercing through him and leaving no shadow.

It landed on Thor’s face. Thor, who could never in his life withhold any emotion from his features. Who felt everything so viscerally, so fiercely, that the force of a hundred fires could not possibly stop him.

Thor, whose lips were pinched so tight it had to hurt. The fists at his side were clenched, and Loki marvelled at how controlled his powers had become- that the sky was not yet filled with swirling thunder, screaming out the tempest raging in Thor’s heart.

Another fizz went by, and this time a bright green trail of smoke slithered its way among the stars. Thor shivered next to his brother while a soaring blue light wound around it. The sky shook, and a flurry of golden sparks descended on the quiet forest.

The interval between each shot could not have been that long. Yet Loki could sense everything veering to a halt, as if his mind was forced to perceive each detail with renewed attention. He knew the feeling. He had felt it twice before. It was the body’s instinctual reaction to death.

“Would you…” The croak that came out of Thor’s mouth was almost lost, and were it not for the faint twitch of Rocket’s ears, it was as if nothing had disturbed the spectacle.

“Would you mind if…If I said a few words?”

Rocket grunted.

The world rippled around Loki as another explosion banged above them. He knew there wasn’t much time left.

He gently shifted and found himself in front of his brother’s darkened face. When he brought his hands up, he realised they had vanished from sight already. No matter- he could still feel them, faintly. He placed them on Thor’s broad shoulders, or as far down as he could get without phasing through.

_“I’m ready, brother.”_

Thor closed his eyes.

It started as a whisper. A faint murmur lost in the raging fires of the sky. Reaching Loki’s ears from another reality.

“Lo, there do I see…”

He was shaking- or was it Loki? It seemed his sensations mingled with the presence next to him, feeding off each other until he could not recognise where one began and the other finished.

“There do I see- my Father.”

_Keep going. Just- don’t stop looking at him._

A golden explosion lit up his brother’s face while sparkling dust rained from above.

“Lo, there do I see my…my Mother.”

A small gust of wind singing of autumn and colours. _Don’t stop looking._

“And…And my- Brothers.” The voice was so incredibly small and choked. It didn’t matter. Loki could feel it- mass fluttering out of his centre into millions of weightless particles.

Thor chose this moment to open his eyes. Those mismatched, powerful, centuries-old irises staring right at him, right past him. The lights reflected swirling patterns in his tears.

“And my Sisters. Lo, there do I see… The line of my people- back to the beginning.” A collective breath. Countless shadows. Loki could not see them. He stared on, noticing only his brother’s ragged breath and heaving shoulders.

His legs were leaving him as well.

_“That’s it, Thor. Go on.”_

“Lo, they do call me. They bid me- take my place among them…in the halls of Valhalla…”

“ _Not yet,”_ Loki breathed. _“Thank the Norns, not yet. You keep going a little longer.”_

“Where thine enemies have been vanquished.” Thor was- not exactly more _confident_. But the whisper had gained a palpable realism, a sense of being, that was definitely not there before.

His chest was becoming transparent. He focused back on Thor’s strained, tear-smeared face. If there was one last sight he could bring with him…

“Where the brave shall live- Forever.” There it was. The final verse. Loki’s breath heightened in anticipation, his disappearing heart beating a thousand times per second.

“Nor shall we mourn, but rejoice-”

Thor’s head sunk back down, as if yielding to the invisible weight of the world.

_“It’s alright, Thor. I’m here. You’ll be alright, brother.”_

With a heaving, final breath, the words flowed through his lips like a gentle breeze.

“For those that have died the glorious death.”

The last thing Loki saw, before vanishing into the aether, was Thor’s head buried in his hands, and behind him the forest, illuminated by beautiful celestial colours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry. Please forgive me, and be comforted by the knowledge that I bawled my freaking eyes out writing this.  
> Thank you all so, so much for commenting and leaving kudos, and please tell me what you think, how you reacted, rant at me... I will always respond to your comments, they all mean so much to me. Writing this story has been incredibly cathartic, and hopefully you've enjoyed it as much as I did.  
> Love you all very, very much <3

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be 3 chapters, hopefully I'll post the second one within a week.  
> Please let me know what you think! A reaction, a detail you spotted, a rant, or a keysmash, anything really! Hearing from you literally makes my day <3  
> Find me on my tumblr @bluecookiesforrick !


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